


Five Times Sherlock Tried To Explain His Asexuality

by beforeclocks



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Asexuality, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-30
Updated: 2011-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-15 06:02:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beforeclocks/pseuds/beforeclocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A five plus one fic centred around Sherlock's experiences with coming out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Sherlock Tried To Explain His Asexuality

1.

She'd been persistent, he had to give her that. Sherlock tried to encourage her back to her own room but after she hadn't stopped banging on his door for half an hour Sherlock found himself sitting on his bed, with an arm around the crying girl from his chemistry lectures whose name he didn't even know.

"I just can't believe he'd do this to me," she continued. "I mean, what does she have that I don't?"

Sherlock wasn't sure if he was supposed to answer; he thought it was probably safer to remain quiet.

But it seemed that he had been wrong to assume. The girl was looking up at him with make-up running in streaks down her face, attempting to be provocative, but in fact just looking very unattractive.

Sherlock stared down at her, feeling very out of his depth for the first time in as long as he could remember. He slowly removed his arm from around her shoulders and shifted on the bed to create an even larger gap between them.

"Are you all right now?"

She nodded briefly and then lunged forwards, trying to pull Sherlock into a kiss. Sherlock managed to turn his head at the last moment, and grimaced at the feel of her wet lips on his jaw.

She pulled away, frowning like a child. Sherlock's brain was currently refusing to come up with any way out of this situation.

The girl shifted forwards again and Sherlock squeaked in a very embarrassing manner.

"What the Hell is wrong with you?"

She was getting angry, Sherlock realised, and he really didn't want to be alone with an upset, angry girl. He might not have much experience in these matters but even Sherlock Holmes knows that that is a bad combination of emotions.

He answered with the first thing that came to the front of his mind; the truth:

"I'm asexual."

She laughed. Sherlock took the opportunity to jump away from the bed, ignoring the sick feeling that pooled in the bottom of his stomach at the sound of her giggles.

"That's not a real thing!"

For the tiniest fraction of a second, Sherlock hoped he'd imagined her voice. Then he realised that reality would be much worse.

"Of course it's a real thing! It's just like being gay or..."

She laughed again, standing up and placing what was supposed to be a reassuring hand on Sherlock's arm. It made him want to hit her.

"Why didn't you just say you were gay?"

"What? No, I'm not gay."

She rolled her eyes, squeezed his arm and kissed his cheek. And then she was gone and Sherlock was left feeling very confused.

By the next morning, everyone thought Sherlock Holmes was gay.

 

2.

"Sherlock darling, when do I get to meet your girlfriend?"

Sherlock gave his mother a glare that would've sent any sane human running. Unfortunately for him, it didn't look as though she was even going to change the subject.

"I don't have a girlfriend." The word almost left a funny taste in his mouth.

Mrs Holmes chuckled lightly.

"I'm free next Wednesday at four, if you two fancy popping in."

"I assure you, there is no 'two'."

They'd had this conversation many times. To say Sherlock was only beginning to tire of it would be to underestimate just how many times. It had been going on his whole life, if not longer. It was his mother involved, after all.

She eyed him curiously for a moment before deciding that he might be telling the truth.

"Well then don't leave it too long before you get long. I'd appreciate some grandchildren soon, you know."  
Sherlock sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"What about Mycroft?"

"Don't be silly, Mycroft is far too busy."

"I'm far too busy!"

Mrs Holmes looked at him sadly and Sherlock, for once, decided to just give up and let his mother fantasise about his very nonexistent domestic life.

 

3.

Sherlock was only in the pub because of a tip off that this was the criminal's usual haunt. But he'd been there almost an hour and no one suspicious or even just remotely interesting had entered. Just as he was about to get up and leave, a man in his late thirties dropped into the seat beside him and started talking.

Sherlock groaned quietly, wondering how rude it would be to just leave anyway.

Two hours later the man had talked excessively about every subject that came to his mind. Currently, it was sexuality.

"All I'm saying is you're either straight or gay. I don't know why people get so worked up about all these labels." He paused to take a long gulp of beer. "Take you for example" (Sherlock really wished he wouldn't) "if you fancy a bird then you're straight and if you fancy a bloke, you're gay! Simple."

"Not really," Sherlock muttered.

"'Course it is." He slapped Sherlock, slightly too forcefully, on the back.

"What about those who don't fancy anyone?"

"What are you on about? No one doesn't fancy anybody!"

He had a stupid grin plastered on his face and Sherlock couldn't bear to look at for a moment longer.  
He left without a word. The man was clearly so thick he probably didn't even notice Sherlock's absence.

 

4.

Sherlock remembers the first time he met Sally Donovan. He'd known Lestrade for just under a year at that point, and Sally was new and nervous, though she did a very good job of hiding it.

Sally had stopped him just before he left the crime scene.

"What's your deal?"

"Pardon?"

"You just sit at home waiting for Lestrade to call? Don't you have a proper job? What does your wife think?"

"I'm a consulting detective. That is my job. And I don't have a wife."

"Girlfriend, then. But what does she think of-"

"Why does everyone assume I must be romantically attached? Not everyone is interested in relationships!"

Sally stayed silent and watched Sherlock stalk away into the darkness.

Later, Lestrade informed her that he'd never known Sherlock to have a girlfriend – no one had.

"Freak," Sally spat, bitterly.

 

5.

"Really Sherlock," Mrs Hudson began, clearing a space on the counter for the tea cups, "you should find yourself a nice girl. It'd help keep the place a bit tidier."

"But I don't want a nice girl!"

"Of course you do, dear. You just haven't found the right one yet. Oh, I know! My niece is coming to visit next week, I'll introduce you. She's a lovely girl, very bright-"

Sherlock snorted, and tried to cover it up as a sneeze. Mrs Hudson eyed him warily.

"Don't worry about it pet," she placed a motherly hand on his shoulder, "the right girl is just waiting for you around the corner, ready to leap into your arms any minute now."

Sherlock felt like he was going to be sick.

 

+1.

Sherlock and John were sharing one of their rare quiet evenings in together. The TV was on - a repeat, no doubt - but neither of them was paying attention to it; John was reading and Sherlock was on his laptop.  
John finished the final page of his book before snapping it shut triumphantly. He glanced across at Sherlock but received no reaction. Not even a condescending smile or a roll of the eyes. Typical.

Instead, John turned his attention to the television. Too lazy to bother finding the remote he settled down to watch EastEnders. Or possibly Coronation Street. Even he wasn't sure what the difference was.

Sherlock glanced up at the screen briefly when some particularly grating cheesy music started. He wrinkled his nose at the semi-naked women dancing about on screen, advertising a new program or product or... something (John really needed to pay attention when he watched television).

John watched Sherlock for a while after that, and thought, in more depth than usual, about his flat mate. Sherlock had never showed any interest in anyone, especially not in that way, for all the time John had known him. John had had his suspicions for a while now, and he thought that now would be a good time as ever to bring it up, while Sherlock was properly relaxed.

"You're asexual."

He'd meant to pose it as more of a question, in the hope that Sherlock would find it less insulting, but John had never been very good at gracious.

"Pardon?"

"Don't pretend like you didn't hear me."

Sherlock shifted in his sit, closing the laptop to get a better look at John.

John felt as though he was being examined by a particularly critical doctor.

"Do you have a problem with it?" Sherlock said, eventually.

"You are then? Asexual, I mean."

Sherlock nodded, and John deduced that he was probably feeling just as uncomfortable as John.

"Why would I have a problem with it?" John's voice sounded level and serious.

Sherlock shrugged, fighting the eye contact John was trying to make.

They are silent for what seems like hours.

"I all ready told you it was all fine."

Sherlock's head snaps up when John speaks. He eyes him curiously and John is convinced Sherlock is about to walk out, and then not to talk to him for three days.

Instead, he smiles gingerly and says:

"I'd love a cup of tea, though."

John grins back, glad that nothing has changed.


End file.
